Page 49 of Dirty Delivery

“See something you like, mo stóirín?” The words are thick with amusement and laced with desire.

I nod, unable to form words as I drink in the sight of him. He leans back over me, his body pressing mine into the mattress. The heat of his skin ignites something primal inside me.

He adjusts his weight, his hand slipping between us to settle at the apex of my thighs, his skilled fingers begin gently rubbing my clit in a circular motion. He increases the pressure, then pinches and twists the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending an intense jolt of pleasure through me. The sensation sends my head spinning, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. “So wet for me,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

I’m barely holding on, every nerve in my body attuned to his touch. He shifts slightly, running the head of his cock through my arousal, dragging it up and down in a slow, teasing rhythm. The torment is too much, and I squirm beneath him, my desperation spilling over.

“Please, Rylan . . .” I plead, my voice a breathy moan.

When he finally slides his full length inside me, the world tilts on its axis. I gasp, my fingernails dig into his back as he stills, letting me adjust to the feeling of him.

He leans back down, his warm chest pressing against my breasts and whispers, “Look at me,” his hand resting gently on my cheek. I obey, meeting his intense gaze. “This isn’t just about tonight, Savannah. You’re mine. Always.”

The weight of his words settles over me, and shockingly, I don’t feel the urge to run. Instead, I pull him closer, letting the moment consume us both.

His movements start slow, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring every second. But as our breaths quicken and our bodies move in perfect rhythm, the intensity builds. His lips find mine again, his kiss desperate and consuming. He pours every unspoken word into where our lips are joined.

My nails rake lightly down his back, drawing a rumble from deep in his chest. “You’re mine too,” I whisper, and the words send a shiver through him.

With one last, powerful thrust, we both spiral into oblivion together, the world fading away until there’s nothing left but him and me.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Savannah

I stretch lazily in bed, feeling the weight of Rylan’s arm draped possessively over my waist, anchoring me to him. His even breathing stirs my hair, warm and comforting, and I can’t help but smile. The soft afternoon light filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a mellow glow. Afternoon. I blink at the clock and nearly snort—how did we manage to sleep this long? Between his snoring symphony and my tendency to toss like a fish out of water, it’s a miracle we slept at all, let alone so well. Everything feels different now, like life has finally settled into exactly where it’s meant to be.

Last night wasn’t just sex; it was something more. Something that filled the cracks I hadn’t realized existed. And now, as we lie tangled together, I can feel it—this unspoken bond that neither of us will acknowledge aloud just yet.

Rylan stirs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along my side. “Morning, mo stóirín,” he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

“Afternoon,” I correct, a playful smile tugging at my lips as I turn to face him. His piercing green eyes blink in mild confusion, still heavy with sleep. “Unless you think the sun’s hanging out up there just for decoration.”

He lets out a soft laugh, his grin sheepish. “Afternoon, then,” he amends, leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “Still feels like morning when I wake up next to you.”

The teasing warmth in his voice melts away any lingering humor, leaving me momentarily lost in the tenderness of the moment. His words, his touch—it all feels so simple, so grounding, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. And for now, I let myself believe it.

“Stay right here,” he says, slipping out of bed. His toned, tattooed frame is a sight to behold as he heads for the kitchen. “I’ll make us some brunch.”

I nod, watching him go, my gaze locked onto the way his muscles flex in his back and his fine, muscular ass that may or may not have some scratch marks from my nails digging into it last night. I can’t help but marvel at how different everything feels. Just days ago, I couldn’t stand even looking at him. Now, the thought of spending a moment apart feels almost unbearable.

When Rylan returns with plates of perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, and toast, we eat in comfortable silence. The quiet between us isn’t awkward—it’s easy, like we’ve known each other forever.

“I need to head into town for a bit,” he says, clearing the plates. “We’re running low on a few things, and Declan sent me a package of . . . supplies. I need to pick it up from the post office.”

“Supplies?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He smirks. “Don’t worry about it. While I’m gone, you should work on that book of yours. There’s a computer in the office upstairs. You’re welcome to use it to get some writing done.”

The thought of having time to write fills me with a strange sense of hope. Writing has always been my escape, but with everything that’s happened, I’d forgotten how much I needed it.

“Alright.” I nod. “But don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promises, leaning down to kiss me. It’s soft, lingering, the kind of kiss that makes me want to pull him back into bed. But he pulls away with a playful grin and grabs his keys before heading out the door.

The house feels empty without him, but I feel like myself again after having felt like I lost myself. I find the office easily and settle into the plush chair at the desk. The laptop hums softly while I start it up and open a blank document. Words flow as my fingers dance over the keyboard, the story I’ve been toying with for years finally coming to life.

Hours pass in a blur, and I only stop when my phone buzzes beside me. Rylan’s name flashes on a text notification.

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